[It's about half past four in the late day when Freddy finally comes waltzing up to their apartment door like he's on cloud nine. After last night's celebration and this morning's rapid awakening followed by working on Tony Stark's cars Freddy smells like sake, a lack of brushing teeth, a lack of a shower, and now motor oil. It doesn't matter though, did he mention he got to work for Iron Man? Nevermind how the guy barely acknowledged his presence once they got their hands dirty, it's Tony fucking Stark. Having told White and Pink who he was rushing off to see at 10am it had to be understandable that he dashed away without giving a solid idea as to when he'd be back, right? Well either way he's back home now, to their apartment. Keys jingle as the kid opens the door.]
Hey? You in?
[He calls out because he wants to tell Larry all about his day.]
[Did he at least comb his hair. Larry is fixing to heat up whatever he had to fight to take back.]
Yeah.
[Unlike some people he slept, woke up. Collected his things, got breakfast on the run, came home and then made something of himself before falling into a state of post-holiday slovenliness.]
Where you been?
[Sure he said he was rushing off...as he was rushing off.]
[Does it count if he combed his hair with his fingers? Because that's what this kid did. When Larry asks where he's been though, the hand flapping starts.]
At Tony Stark's. He's got me workin' on his cars, his personal cars.
[Cue a long drawn out babble about what kind of cars they are, how they differ from models he knows, how they're the same, how he plans to make them run smoother then better. He is right up in Larry's face too, wherever the old man happens to be in their home.]
[Freddy, Freddy, Freddy. When will you learn to wear a blazer so that you can put a comb in it?
The old bear listens. He's making the leftovers into a sandwich. Near Dagwood. And he's listening.]
He's gonna pay you right? Y'didn't act like you'd do it for free there...
[Because the sheer bursting enthusiasm would sure make a more frugal person try to pull that one. Larry's stunned that the kid didn't insist on freshening up for his own personal benefit. Fuck it was like a date.]
Nnnnugh. [Damn. Looks like they let the lights on. Huff. The old man fumbles for a nightstand that wasn't there. Wait. And this isn't a bed. It's a...table.]
What the-?
[Wait. Wait. It's coming back to him along with the not so great feeling headache. They took a stroll, got tired and decided this was a better place to rest before heading home than a park bench. He squints and looks at his watch. 2:26am.]
[All the noise. Ugh. Larry rolls and stops himself from falling to gauge the distance that the kid fell.]
Y'alright?
[Blink. Blink. A few tries and he offers a hand to the kid if he wants to climb up. Already the old man knows his back is stiff in the worst kind of way.]
[Whine. He'll take that paw though and get back up to his feet. It was a short distance for a short Orange. Just when he turns around though he nearly crashes into...it.]
HOLY FUCK!
[The statue's as big as he is (bigger) and covering its eyes. It's poised behind Larry's head at the end of the table.]
[At the casino. On the street. In the lobby. In the elevator. EVERYWHERE. Now at their door he comes into the apartment. The earplugs haven't done all that much, just muffling. The tunes are apparent. All of the snowmen, reindeer and fa la la la las are particularly infectious.]
[Whatever's playing at home isn't any better. It can be heard through the door, a mish mash of tunes that are Christmasy on one side because the TV won't turn off and metal on the other because no one fucks with Freddy Newendyke's LPs. Too bad the old school way of playing music isn't capable of overpowering the digital set up.]
[It's sad. Embarrassing even. As much as he was looking forward to playing today he is looking forward to heading back into the apartment. It's an agonizingly slow process from the walk home to the elevator to their door. Finally the key unlocks the door. He doesn't care about where his coat lands. The old man has the foresight to not lay directly in the entry way. It's more of paralleled to the back of the couch.
Flop.
Right there. On his back. Finally. There's a rough and heavy sigh for that. The floor feels cool, it's a bonus.]
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Hey? You in?
[He calls out because he wants to tell Larry all about his day.]
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Yeah.
[Unlike some people he slept, woke up. Collected his things, got breakfast on the run, came home and then made something of himself before falling into a state of post-holiday slovenliness.]
Where you been?
[Sure he said he was rushing off...as he was rushing off.]
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At Tony Stark's. He's got me workin' on his cars, his personal cars.
[Cue a long drawn out babble about what kind of cars they are, how they differ from models he knows, how they're the same, how he plans to make them run smoother then better. He is right up in Larry's face too, wherever the old man happens to be in their home.]
It was supercool.
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The old bear listens. He's making the leftovers into a sandwich. Near Dagwood. And he's listening.]
He's gonna pay you right? Y'didn't act like you'd do it for free there...
[Because the sheer bursting enthusiasm would sure make a more frugal person try to pull that one. Larry's stunned that the kid didn't insist on freshening up for his own personal benefit. Fuck it was like a date.]
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[Cause the guy he was supposed to drink with didn't show. He would've told Larry already that he was going out with Eames.]
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Sure. Where?
[Oblivious old man is oblivious. And he's also ready and raring to go.]
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[Is he catching wind of what's up yet?]
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[Since that was first. Hurm. Gears turning. Oh Freddy. Sigh.]
be there soon.
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What the-?
[Wait. Wait. It's coming back to him along with the not so great feeling headache. They took a stroll, got tired and decided this was a better place to rest before heading home than a park bench. He squints and looks at his watch. 2:26am.]
Jesus.
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[This is not a bed. This ain't even soft. Freddy shifts until he oops--rolls off some piece of furniture.]
Shit! [Face down on the floor.] Damn...
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Y'alright?
[Blink. Blink. A few tries and he offers a hand to the kid if he wants to climb up. Already the old man knows his back is stiff in the worst kind of way.]
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[Whine. He'll take that paw though and get back up to his feet. It was a short distance for a short Orange. Just when he turns around though he nearly crashes into...it.]
HOLY FUCK!
[The statue's as big as he is (bigger) and covering its eyes. It's poised behind Larry's head at the end of the table.]
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Hello?
[That's a bellow. Because that might be the only way to communicate besides non-verbal.]
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I can't turn it off.
[A shout and point to the TV that's showing some holly jolly christmas crap.]
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Flop.
Right there. On his back. Finally. There's a rough and heavy sigh for that. The floor feels cool, it's a bonus.]
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...
[Something's up. Larry's on the floor. Hmmmmm...]
Hi.
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Hey.
[He'll even wave to feel slightly more lively.]
Home early?
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[See him put his stuff down then come right on over to straddle the old man.]
You like it down there?
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